More and more, the mailbag seems to tackle how to navigate Facebook interactions with the opposite sex. It’s kind of a bummer. I’m certainly no Luddite, but it makes me miss that cold, sweaty nervousness of dialing a girl’s number and not knowing whether she’d pick up (terror! your voice cracks!) or you’d get the answering machine (overwhelming relief, aftertaste of disappointment).

But enough nostalgia. Nostalgia’s nonsense; the past is crap, and the present is better. Facebook is great, because it allows us to easily keep tabs on all sorts of people we really shouldn’t have the privilege of knowing about. More on that in a bit — let’s get to your questions.

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My bachelor party was this past weekend. It was a great deal of fun, and also kind of disastrous. We started at 3 p.m. in a place in Brooklyn that has happy hour deals on oysters and whiskey, then did an early-evening cruise around Manhattan on a rented yacht with open bar. We gambled with dice raucously, and then my night got pretty blurry. I guess we also played some poker? And got into a limo and sang along to Pearl Jam’s “Jeremy”? And the limo broke down on the FDR, so we went to a bar in Alphabet City? Then apparently I disappeared for half an hour, and when I rejoined the party I was no longer blacked out. Nice! Memories!

But yeah, I woke up with this bad boy on my arm and countless bruises all over my body — I remember falling down the ladder on the boat (didn’t spill my drink LIKE A BAWSE), but I don’t recall falling face-first off a two-foot partition onto the West Side Highway. Also, the officiant of my wedding tried to walk home over the Williamsburg Bridge, fell onto his face and cut his chin open, and showed up at his apartment at 5:30 in the morning shirtless, bloody, and vomiting. His wife took him to the ER for six stitches and a tetanus shot.

Oh yeah, and there was also this:

No, YOU’RE the one who got trashed then somehow passed out on your buddy’s Russian roommate’s bed, where his girlfriend was already sleeping

— Mike Tunison (@xmasape) May 6, 2012

So apparently these are the things that happen at bachelor parties that make The Hangover realistic enough to be funny. If that happens to you regularly, you should probably stop drinking entirely (more on that later, btw).

Thanks for indulging drunken story time. Let’s get to your questions.

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After a week off due to NFL Draft festivities, the mailbag is back. As such, some of the following questions date back to before the draft, so be nice to the people who write as though the draft has yet to happen. Being mean is my job.

Just kidding, I’m not mean. Merely old and grumpy and direct — and unwilling to publish submissions that are 1000 words long. ONE THOUSAND WORDS! Don’t do that to yourselves, people. Don’t write all those words just for me to say to myself, “This is an interesting problem, but good God I can’t possibly include this because nobody is going to read it.” Please: edit your ish before you hit send.

On to your questions!

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Did you guys hear? The draft was this weekend! It was such a momentous occasion that I pored over the results and graded every team wrote a SEO-friendly headline to post some draft videos. Up above you’ll see Dan Rubenstein and me goofing off courtesy of SB Nation — highlights include some fan F-bombs and me asking Andrew Luck if he’d been studying the Wikipedia entry for “Indianapolis.” (Christmas Ape was at the draft as well, and it was my original goal for the two of us two sit in the mezzanine together and make fun of the draft a la Statler and Waldorf, but he had the live-blog to attend to. A pity.)

If you’re still craving more video of deranged fans from the draft, embedded below are the adventures of Nick Stevens, aka Fitzy the Boston stereotype. It’s a bit long, but your patience will be rewarded with a Steelers fan who does a remarkable Joe Pesci impression. Also, there’s lots of swearing. Yay!

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You guys. Oh my God. The last email of this column is just… you’ll see. Just wait and see.

But before that happens, we’ve got a rare example of me actually crunching some numbers, what to do when a birthday occurs early in a relationship, reconnecting with old crushes, and more. Also, no herpes this week! Yay!

Read on:

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Whoops, the mailbag’s late today. I’m unhappy with that; you’re unhappy with that. Let’s get over it together and move on.

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Ahoy-hoy. The mailbag is a bit delayed by a combination of my job today and attempting to have a social life last night. I apologize for both of those things.

In the meantime, please enjoy this video I made about NFL logos getting more and more aggressive over the years. Should you be so inclined, you may also read the accompanying piece I wrote for it over at SB Nation, the highlight of which can be found below.

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Good news and bad news, folks. The good: the mailbag’s done early today! Yay!  The bad: the mailbag is slightly shorter than usual because of it. Sorry.

Nevertheless, I think we dig deep into a couple of good questions regarding cheating, drafting on the turn, a certain STD (read on to find out which one!), cutting ties with exes, and the worst case of “friend zone” I can ever remember answering (see the banner image for a preview). Let’s get into it.

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You may have already seen this video via Twitter or my primary home of SB Nation, but as long as KSK exists there will be room for homoeroticism, shouts of “WELKAH,” and my all-consuming, soul-burning hatred for Ben Roethlisberger. Some NUGGETS that didn’t make the video:

• All credit to Champ Bailey, who was so very nice even though I was kind of a dick to him. Sorry, Champ.
• Ndamukong Suh’s favorite soccer team is Arsenal.
• Welker’s response to my final question was laughter, then asking if I was from Spike TV. No, Wes. I write for Maxim.
• Yesterday was Kam Chancellor’s birthday. Happy birthday, Kam!
• Almost all of the press there were asking questions like “How will the new uniforms help you on the field?” Reporters live AWFUL lives filled with terrible sex.

And, of course, the obligatory screencap:

By now you’ve probably seen Sofia Vergara on the cover of Esquire for their sex issue, and this makes sense because any sensible straight man would like to have sex with Sofia Vergara. But when you write about sex every week, you notice when other writers aren’t used to writing about sex. The most obvious entry in the issue is by Chris Jones, a brilliant writer who contributed 300 words about women who are bad in bed and subsequently got his words twisted in a tasteless smear by Gawker. (For what it’s worth, Jones isn’t wrong: women can be bad in bed, and the fact that he calls upon sexual memories a decade or more old isn’t substantially different than what I do here every week.)

More egregious, to me, is an article titled The Demise of the Blowjob, a con job of a headline for a poorly-argued article that’s more about the rise of men performing cunnilingus. Heaven forbid equal rights extend to oral sex! Of course, that can’t touch the ode to cheating written by Lisa Taddeo, a testament to human shittiness that was already obliterated by Lindy West.

The lessons: (1) let the best writers on the planet work on 5000-word stories, and (2) discussions of sex are more intelligent when you do it more than once a year.

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